


It’s for Your Own Good (it’s for the Neighborhood)

by supercasey



Series: I'm projecting onto Jack Bright and you can't stop me ✌️ [2]
Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide Recovery, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family meeting, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Recovery, aka the bright family is still a fucking mess but what else is new, also people finally help jack thank fuck, please get therapy you morons, this fic is gonna hurt but don't worry it gets better by the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercasey/pseuds/supercasey
Summary: Continuation to the fic “All on Memorex” - Mikell calls a family meeting, and things snowball from there. As if this family wasn’t screwed up enough.
Relationships: Jack Bright & Adam Bright, Jack Bright & Claire Lumineaux, Jack Bright & Dr. Alto Clef, Jack Bright & Evelyn Bright, Jack Bright & Mikell Bright, Jack Bright & Sarah Bright, Jack Bright & TJ Bright
Series: I'm projecting onto Jack Bright and you can't stop me ✌️ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128575
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Code Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, look at me actually making a sequel when I said I would; that’s a new one. Anyways, I fucking love the dumpster fire that is the Bright family, and while I don’t think I’m very good at writing all of them, I tried my best. Also, a quick note; this fic’s title came from the song “Neighborhood #2” by Arcade Fire, which is not only a fucking BOP, but it fits the Brights so well that I cried about it for most of this month. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

_“Our mother should have_

_Just named you Laika_

_It's for your own good_

_It's for the neighborhood_

_The neighborhood”_

_Neighborhood #2 “Laika” - Arcade Fire_

_~~~_

For a good, long while, Jack Bright wholeheartedly believes he’s dead. Whether or not he’s okay with this is up for debate, but he doubts he has any say on the matter anymore.

He feels as if he’s floating, suspended in space with his eyes glued shut and his mouth screwed into a neutral expression by some invisible force, all while the world around him swishes and sways, making him feel akin to a bottle bobbing in the ocean. It’s not particularly _nice,_ not with a constant chill coursing over and through his body, but maybe this is just what happens to people who kill themselves. Bright stays like this for what feels like forever, his mind unable to wander or fray, until suddenly, he feels something warm start to take shape in his chest. The heat only grows stronger, burning him like nothing else, and just when the doctor thinks the fire will kill him, will burn him in an eternal hell of his own making, the force keeping him here finally wanes, freeing him from his paralyzed prison.

Bright flails in place, trying to grab ahold of something, anything, but as he opens his eyes and looks around, he finds himself suspended in what looks like an endless void. It feels… _familiar,_ somehow. Like he’s been to this place and seen it before, but none of the memories are really there, only the sensations and smells. Despite there being nothing to grab onto, the doctor manages to force himself into a more upright position with all his movement, granting him at least some sense of control in all of this madness as he reorients himself. The void is, in a strange way, absolutely _gorgeous,_ with millions upon millions of tiny red, sparkling stars in every direction. When Bright looks closer at them, he gasps, shocked to see that in many of the stars, he sees the faces of every single body he’s ever inhabited, of every single face that’s been taken using SCP-963’s powers… except, strangely enough, his. Where is his body? Is it… is it _his_ again, at long last?

Glancing down, his suspicions are confirmed, as Bright finds himself to be in his true, original body, and clothed in the same, now pristine clothes he wore the day SCP-076 ripped the life from him. His body hasn’t aged a day, the being that is Jack Bright stuck at twenty-three for all of eternity. Despite it being over two decades since he’s been in his original skin, Bright feels himself smile, unable to keep from hugging himself. If he really is dead, at least he gets to be dead as himself and not someone else. It’s as the doctor is holding himself, feeling just one spark of peace in this desolate place, that he hears something for the first time in ages. The sound is muffled, a vibrating echo calling from every direction possible- the stars, he realizes too late- and despite the fact that they can’t even scream, can’t even breathe in a gasp in order to survive, the chorus of voices is _deafening._

Bright screams, his own shout muted in the endless void, and in agony he tries to cover his ears, tries to make the voices _stop,_ but these screams will not be silenced any longer. In unison, the voices pause, only to come back just as strong, shattering the man’s eardrums. They don’t quite form words or a concrete message, but in the spasm of space trying to reorient itself, Bright thinks he hears someone call his name.

He blacks out. Then, a moment later, he’s awake again, the void gone. Well, that’s not _entirely_ true. It’s still here, but now it’s become the night sky, and the researcher is miles and miles below it, unable to hear it’s anger anymore. It can’t hurt him here. Bright doesn’t even remember turning his head up to look at the sky, or when he realized it was the sky and not his tomb. He blinks, finally managing to look away, only to find himself in the desecrated ruins of an ancient battlefield that he does not recognize, the doctor sat dead in the middle of a crater dusted with ash and bone marrow. Just as Bright considers trying to stand up and look around, considers trying to leave, he feels the weight of a voyeur’s eyes on him, watching the man from afar. Before he can so much as exhale, there’s a flash, and from that flash of light comes something tall, red, and electric.

A being of crimson glow towers in front of Bright, it’s body shivering and burning at the seams, like it can barely keep itself together. When it opens it’s mouth to speak, it speaks with the voices of countless lives within it, and if the doctor had to guess, he’d assume that they’re all past victims of SCP-963. Hell, _he_ might even be in there somewhere, but he isn’t quite sure yet.

“Hello, Jack,” The being whispers, their voices so low that Bright can barely hear them over the din of his own breathing. “It’s about time we finally spoke with one another.”

Bright swallows, his throat feeling parched. “Are you… SCP-963? Are you the amulet?” He asks, because he’s not an idiot; if he’s dead, it’s only fitting that he face the thing that’s kept him alive all this time.

Despite not having a very visible mouth, the being smiles. “You’re a clever man, Jack. But of course, I already know this. Yes, I am the spirit that you have come to know as SCP-963. I have other names, other faces, but this is the only one that should matter to you. After all, your kind gave it to me.”

Bright nods, able to breathe just a little easier, now that he _sort of_ knows what he’s dealing with here. Might as well get his biggest question out of the way. “Am I dead?”

963 shivers, glitching out of existence for all of a millisecond. “Not quite. You came very close, but no, you’re not dead, despite your desperate attempt to kill yourself.”

He really should be celebrating, should be hooping and hollering with glee, but Bright can’t help but sigh in defeat. “Dammit,” He mutters, glaring at the charred dirt of the crater. “Then that must mean… that the foundation is going to contain us, aren’t they? Now I’ll _never_ be free.”

963 doesn’t answer at first, seemingly studying the doctor, before very slowly, they take a seat in the crater across from Bright, only a hair’s length away from touching him. “Do you _truly_ want to die, Jack Bright?” 963 asks, their voices sounding clearer than ever.

Bright considers it. On one hand, he feels as if living forever is a terrible fate, as he’ll be forced to outlive everyone he’s ever loved, and all the people those people loved, and so on and so forth for the rest of time as he knows it. On the other hand, when he was bleeding out in the tub and feeling every drop of blood slowly and painfully leave his body… he didn’t _want_ to die anymore. More than anything, he just wanted everyone else to live forever too, and maybe a little bit of understanding from his family and employers for good measure, but in the end, no, he _didn’t_ want to die. Now that he’s here, suspended in what feels like the center of the universe, Bright is overcome with a sudden desire to not quite live, but at least see the people he loves again.

“I’m not sure,” After more than five minutes of introspection, Bright is honest with 963, his head still swimming with fear and anguish. “I don’t want to outlive the people I love, but I don’t know if I’m ready to lose them yet, either.”

“A common feeling for those who are suicidal,” SCP-963 says, nodding their head like a scientist about to make a breakthrough. “You want the promise of release, of an end to your life that is promised to all mortals. It’s a shame no one taught you sooner that you would likely never have that. Perhaps, if someone had, you would not have gone to this much of an extreme in order to get help.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Bright pauses, not missing the implications of what 963 just said. “Are you trying to say I was already immortal before you, um…” He grimaces, trying to find a word that isn’t too insulting to describe his relationship with 963.

To Bright’s surprise, the being that is 963 seems to almost _chuckle,_ a sound that’s so out of place here, yet in a way, it’s almost humanizing. “Do not force yourself to care about me, Jack. I understand that I have caused you great stress and woe in your existence, and although I mean no harm in housing you, I know it was not consensual for either of us. I did not choose you, Jack, and you did not choose me, but we are together now, and I hope that you will not hate me forever,” 963 takes a moment to smile at Bright again, their gaze loving in a way, before they get back to the doctor’s question. “You were never quite… _immortal,_ Jack Bright. Not that I can tell, at least. I assume that those before you were, at one time, but they must have lost their power, leaving you with nothing but footnotes on your bones and a glittering heart; all you have is divinity.”

“What exactly _is_ divinity?” Bright is starting to feel more and more like the idiot reader-insert in a young adult fantasy novel, but to be entirely fair, none of this makes any damn sense to him yet, so he hopes he’ll be cut a break soon. “Is it in my brain? Do I still have it, or did I lose it when I died the first time?”

“I cannot answer all of your questions, Jack, for I only know what I can gather from the hands that have held me since I came to be. I have come into contact with the divine and the immortal alike, and while I do not know how they gained such properties, I am able to discern that you are one of the former. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.” SCP-963 is completely honest with the doctor, not feeling the desire to lie to him, which is very nice indeed, but it also means that Bright can’t get anymore information out of them.

Bright lets out a long, mighty sigh. “So that’s it? I used to have something in my blood that made me immortal, but now I don’t?”

963 shakes their head. “No, you’re still very much a divine being, as divinity rests in your very soul. Although you are not made so by a power higher than my own, you are, at this point in time, more or less an undying thing. As has been proven, the amulet my being resides in cannot be destroyed by any known means, and seeing as you cannot die… it seems you might be immortal after all. Just don’t go around saying as much; those who are not artificially so may take offense to such a statement.”

Bright nods, though he doesn’t quite get what 963 means by that. “Now what?” He asks, beginning to feel tired out of seemingly nowhere. He yawns, then stretches, his body aching all over.

“I can’t be certain, but I believe you may wake soon,” 963 says, looking around with a bored demeanor. As if to prove this, the world around them and Bright begins to vibrate and crack at the edges, the universe destroying itself. _“Hm…_ yes, we’re about to be given a new host.”

“How long have we been like this?” Bright’s almost scared to ask, scared to find out if he’s been trapped for hundreds of years, but he has to know, has to prepare himself for the worst.

“Not long, at least by your standards. A few hours at most, if even that.” 963 shrugs, not as concerned as their supposed roommate, or whatever they see him as.

Bright gulps, and even as he feels himself leaving this plane of existence, he can’t stop himself from continuing to talk, from continuing to ask questions. “Why have I not met you until now?”

963 considers the researcher for a long time, their non-existent eyes narrowing at him, their gaze surgical but warm. “Because you didn’t need to. You have been destroying yourself for some time, Jack Bright. I truly believed you would die by your own hands, that you would override your own divinity, but I was mistaken, and now, it seems we are to be together forever,” They look Bright up and now, and as the world fizzles and pops, they smile again. “I don’t know if I love you, Jack, however it is very hard not to when you have lived within someone for so long. So, for my sake, I ask that you try not doing that again anytime soon, understand? Let’s not test fate anymore than we have to.”

* * *

When Bright wakes up, he’s in a new body.

This isn’t really much of a surprise to him of course, considering how… _damaged_ the last one was by the end. Still, it’s always disorienting to switch bodies, especially when they don’t have a lot of similarities to the last one. Usually Bright makes a point to pick out his next host in advance, basing his choice off of which D-Class is the most similar to his current host so it won’t be too awkward of a transition (unless he _wants it_ to be awkward), but of course, when he dies unexpectedly, the foundation tends to just slap the amulet onto one of the newer D-Class and call it a day. This must be the case this time around, as when Bright begins to try rolling out of bed, not only does he realize he’s strapped down, but he’s definitely in a much taller body than he was before.

 _“Well, I guess it’s better than being short,”_ Bright thinks, groaning through his teeth when his squirming only goes to make him sore. _“Dammit, there’s no give… guess I’m stuck here for awhile.”_

Although his body is trapped, Bright is grateful that he’s even _in_ one to begin with, or he’d have literally no idea what’s going on around him. Even so, there isn’t much information he can gather in his current state, as the room the doctor has found himself in is incredibly sparse, save for a desk and chair in the farthest corner of the room. Bright tries to crane his neck just so, doing his best to get a better angle in-case the desk has something important on it, but his position makes it damn near impossible to look around. Sighing, he quickly gives up, resigning himself to being trapped until someone comes to get him. _Unless…_ smirking, the doctor jerks his chest enough times to bump his necklace closer to his face, close enough that he can grab the amulet with his teeth. He shakes his head until the chain is wretched over his head, and with a grunt, Bright throws the amulet to the floor.

There’s darkness for a bit, though Bright isn’t as aware of it as he was earlier. He doesn’t get to meet with SCP-963 again, either. After an unknown amount of time, the researcher wakes back up in his new host again, eyes snapping open as he takes a big, desperate breath of air.

Someone clicks their tongue from just out of sight. Bright turns his head to try and find the source, relieved when he sees Dr. Clef at his bedside.

“That desperate for attention, huh? And here I was thinking you wanted anything but that.” Clef comments, not exactly scolding the other man, but his disappointed gaze is punishment enough.

Bright sags, grimacing. “I didn’t intend to come back, you know.”

Clef nods. “Yeah, I know. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re here, too,” He admits, only pausing so he can drag the desk chair over. He turns it away from Bright, sitting in it backwards so he can rest his chin on the headrest. “So what happened out there? Did you get shy on the trigger? Fucked up on the jump? It’s always harder than you think it’ll be.”

Bright shakes his head, an uncomfortable weight starting to form in his chest like a tumor. Whether it’s from Clef giving him suicide advice or the reality of what almost happened hitting him is a mystery, but it’s an awful feeling regardless. “No, I did pretty much everything right, I just… didn’t die, somehow. I felt like I was going to, but something kept me from going over the edge… _metaphorically,_ of course.”

That seems to catch Clef off-guard, the fellow researcher grimacing. “What do you mean? That doesn’t make any sense, Jack. 963 won’t accept a host if they kill themselves, right? That’s what all your research on it suggests, anyhow. So how the _hell_ are you still alive?”

“I don’t know,” Bright admits, staring at the ceiling with a forlorn expression on his face. “But… when I finally passed out from the blood loss, I met 963. You know I’ve died countless times now, but this time it was much different; I was conscious while in the amulet. I always wondered if there was something- some _one-_ inside of 963… guess I was right after all.”

“Do you need me to grab a pen for this?” Clef asks, sitting up straight for once, his attention honed in on the other doctor.

Bright shakes his head. “No, I’ll write a full report on this later, so long as I’m still _allowed_ to…” He trails off, feeling even sicker at the thought. “Oh _god,_ I’m going to be labeled an SCP now, aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” Clef says, shrugging his shoulders with little emotion on his face. “I’ve been an SCP at least four times, and trust me, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Bright pauses, confused. “Wait, I thought you were only labeled an SCP after the 239-B incident! Didn’t you get that removed a few years ago? Since when were you classified _again!?”_

Clef just stares at Bright, a shit-eating grin on his face.

After a few seconds, it dawns on him. “Oh, right. You’re _lying.”_ Bright says, disappointed by his own fallibleness, but even more in Clef for being… well, _Clef._

Clef clicks his tongue in a way that might be endearing under the right circumstances. “Never trust anything anyone tells you, Jack. If there’s one thing you should keep in mind, it’s that,” He says it like he’s decades Bright’s senior, and considering how clouded the other researcher’s past is, Bright’s half tempted to believe it. “So,” Clef moves on rather quickly, leaning closer to his coworker with that signature shark smile of his. “You said you saw something that represented 963 while you were out of commission, right? What did it look like?”

Bright shrugs to the best of his ability. “It’s hard to describe… they were like a poltergeist made out of red electricity, but I could hardly make out any real features of them; they didn’t even have eyes! The one thing I’m sure they had was a mouth, but it was hard to make out from all the… _static,”_ The very _act_ of remembering 963 afflicts Bright with a headache, but he continues to describe them out of stubbornness. “They didn’t seem particularly hostile, though I don’t think they liked me that much, either. They seemed confused by the fact that the two of us are still stuck together, and they looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see them.”

“Was there anything else around or with you?” Clef asks, his curiosity only growing.

“Sort of?” Bright says, wishing he could move his hands while talking like he usually does; it would make this conversation much more comfortable for him. “Before I actually _met_ 963, I woke up in what looked like an endless void filled with red stars, but in each of the stars, I saw the faces of everyone I’d ever inhabited. I should also mention that I was in my original body for all of this.”

“Sounds terrifying,” Clef mutters, biting his knuckle without realizing it. “Did you hear anything? Could your past hosts speak to you? I hope not. I don’t imagine they’d be very happy to see you.” He says it jokingly, but Bright can hear the slight worry in his voice.

“They tried to, but their voices were too distorted to make any sense. I think they were trying to kill me through sheer willpower,” Bright admits, and if he’s being honest, he finds that idea just a little appealing. “After they tried that, I woke up in an empty battlefield and met 963. Like I said, they weren’t aggressive in the slightest, so we were able to talk for awhile. They mentioned having past hosts, of being passed between a lot of different people, but they didn’t give me any details on them,” He pauses, wishing he could have some water to wet his throat. “Eventually, the topic of why I was there came up… they told me I only lived because I have _divinity_ in me or something like that. Honestly, I have no idea what they-”

“-Hold on. Back up a step,” Clef orders, suddenly much closer to Bright than he was before. “Repeat _exactly_ what you just said, but slower this time.”

“Um…” Bright struggles a bit, made uncomfortable by Clef’s drastic change in behavior, but he does as he’s told for once out of shock. “They said I only survived because I’m divine?”

“No, that’s not what you said a minute ago,” Clef says, his voice almost turning into a growl. He abandons his chair completely, coming to stand directly by Bright’s bed. There’s a beat of silence, then the older researcher has the younger by the chin, forcing him to keep eye contact with him. “Jack, you _can’t_ screw around with me on this one. Did 963 say you _were_ divine, or that you have divinity _in_ you?”

Bright dry-swallows, squirming slightly under the pressure. “What’s the difference?” He asks.

Clef doesn’t so much as blink, not even with his third eye. “There’s a big one. Which is it, Jack?”

Bright tries to roll away, to hide from his coworker’s relentless gaze, but Clef keeps his grip on him, just as unyielding as he is when interviewing SCPs. Finally, Bright gives in, though he can’t help but be slightly terrified of Clef right now. “They… they said I _have_ divinity in me, and that it won’t let me kill myself.”

Again, it’s quiet. Clef looks at Bright in the same way he looks at an SCP from behind a bullet-proof window, cold and clinical, and for a brief, horrifying moment, the younger doctor wonders if he’s just lost one of his closest friends in this hellhole he calls his home. But then Clef is letting go of him and backing off, his usual easy-going smile back on full display, as if the last few minutes never even happened. Needless to say, Bright isn’t sure what to make of it all, unable to look away from his coworker after what happened. Clef, in the meantime, returns to his chair, letting out a long, tired sigh once he sits down. Bright wonders if he’ll start playing his ukulele, but the instrument goes untouched for the time being.

After far too long a time spent in awkward silence, Bright takes it upon himself to say something. “Uh, _Clef?_ What the _hell_ just happened?”

Clef shrugs so nonchalantly, it actually annoys the other man. “Nothing really. Just gathering information, that’s all.”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot, Alto,” Bright growls, growing angry from what he believes is Clef trying to gaslight him. “What’s going on here? Why do you even _care_ what 963 called me? It’s probably just some bullshit to excuse it being attached to me, that’s all.” He can’t help but lie, not wanting to believe what 963 told him might be true.

“They weren’t lying to you,” Clef says without missing a beat. “I’ve had my own suspicions for some time now, and I wanted to believe I was wrong… but this changes things. A lot of things,” He actually barks out a laugh, startling Bright in the process. “Looks like I need a new contingency plan for when you really _do_ lose it!”

Instead of trying to keep lying, Bright gives up, having never been as apt at it as the other doctor in his company. “So what does it mean, then? To have divinity?”

Clef shrugs again, leaning back so far that Bright thinks he’ll lose his balance and fall out of his chair. He kind of hopes he does. “That’s not on me to explain, Jack. It could mean a number of things, both good _and_ bad.”

Bright rolls his eyes. “You’re just saying that to avoid talking about it, aren’t you?”

Clef smirks. “Bingo,” He says, laughing as he finally takes to strumming his ukulele; the sound makes Bright feel more at ease. “Don’t worry, once this is all sorted out, I’m sure someone else will know how to explain it to you better than I could. Just take a load off, Jack… you look like you could use some rest.” He then scrunches his mouth the way he does when he’s completely focused on a task, suggesting he’s done talking.

Bright’s tempted to try snapping at Clef, to interrogate him like an uncooperative SCP, but he knows from experience that when Alto Clef is done with a conversation, he stays done until he decides otherwise. With nothing else to do, the restrained doctor takes to closing his eyes and simply listening to his coworker play his instrument. He isn’t actually sure if he _likes_ the ukulele all that much, having never been one for it’s usual genre of music, but it makes a very soothing sound, and he could really use some comfort right now. In a way, it’s nice, and for just an hour or so, Bright pretends that nothing is wrong; he’s just napping during his break in one of the lounges, lucky enough to be given a private concert by Clef between conferences, interviews, and experiments.

The peacefulness, of course, doesn’t last forever, not for someone like Bright in a place like this. Eventually the doctor catches wind of a commotion outside, of several pairs of footsteps walking this way and that outside his door, always lingering, always pacing; it makes him feel like a pigeon waiting to get pounced on by a hungry tomcat. Clef slows his strumming, just as aware of the eavesdropper as Bright, but he doesn’t quite stop, much to the other man’s thankfulness. A few more minutes pass, the air taut with tension, until at long last, there’s a click of the doorknob as it’s unlocked. Bright isn’t sure what he was expecting- maybe Mikell, or Gears, or even his _father-_ but the sight of Claire has him almost relieved that he’s strapped down, or he’s sure he’d be falling over with shock.

“Claire!?” Bright asks, unable to keep from barking his little sister’s name. “What the hell are _you_ doing here!?”

Claire doesn’t answer at first, the young woman glancing almost nervously between her older brother and Clef, giving Bright a moment to really take in his sister’s appearance. After all, he hasn’t actually seen her in years, excluding a few blurry pictures Mikell’s sent him over the years to confirm she’s still alive and working with the Serpent's Hand. Claire Abigail Bright looks much the same as she did when she was a teenager, her glare sharp enough to cut through her father’s hardened exterior and her hair the same shadowy black as her dear mother’s eyelashes. Her clothes are peculiar to Jack, so much more casual and comfortable than the battle armor he was expecting from what the foundation has deemed is a terrorist, but then again, the Serpent’s Hand is known for their guerrilla tactics, so Claire’s outfit is probably _meant_ to make her blend in with a crowd.

Finally, after a tense moment, Claire smirks, but not at Bright, as her eyes are locked onto the other doctor in the room. “Well… never thought I’d actually get to meet Agent Ukulele in the flesh. I thought you were an old folktale.”

Clef shrugs, his smile strangely warm, considering how much Bright _knows_ he hates his past being brought up, especially the parts he can’t hide. “Not quite, miss. Gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you, too. Not every day I get to see one of you snakes this close off on my own turf.”

“You say that like you own the place, like you’re not just as out of place as me,” Claire says, and it soon dawns on Bright that this isn’t as friendly of a meeting as he thought it was. No, this is a thinly veiled standoff, and he’s unlucky enough to be the damsel in distress in the middle of it. _Great._ “So how’s your daughter, Ukulele? Still locked in Biocontainment Zone C?”

Clef grimaces, his hand stilling mid-strum, but he’s back to it in a heartbeat. “She’s fine. How ‘bout you, kid? Are you still letting SCPs loose so they can get themselves and everyone they ever cared about killed?”

Claire glares at Clef in much the same way she used to glare at Dad, causing Bright to go tense with worry. Is he about to watch his little sister and his best friend beat the shit out of each other? God, he hopes not; he doesn’t want to explain Clef’s corpse to whoever comes to clean the mess up afterwards.

Slowly, Claire eases up, her shoulders going lax again. “I’m not here to start a fight with the ghost of a book-burner,” She mutters, her voice edging on bitter. She finally looks at Bright, and good lord, do those eyes have such a _sadness_ in them, it almost makes the doctor lose what little of his composure is left. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, Jackie. If I had known just how far the foundation was pushing you-”

“-It wasn’t _all_ the foundation’s fault, sis,” Bright assures, though he worries he doesn’t come off as very convincing, seeing as he’s strapped to a stretcher with no say in when he’s allowed up. “And even if it was, you don’t have anything to apologize for. If anything, _I_ should be the one apologizing to _you._ It was shitty of me to even _hint_ at what I was going to do… I’m so sorry I put you through that, Claire.”

“It’s fine,” Claire says in a very not fine tone of voice. “I’ll get over it, Jack… right now, I just want to make sure you’re okay, and that you stay that way. Honestly, it's the only reason I bothered coming all the way out here.”

Bright startles at that. “Wait, this isn’t a break-in? I thought you were here to kidnap me.”

“Jack, if she had come here to kidnap you, I would’ve shot her between the eyes the minute she stepped through that door. Hell, if she hadn't been given a formal invitation, I would've killed her when she came on-site.” Clef explains, briefly reminding Bright that he’s still here.

“Wanna bet?” Without meaning to, Jack and Claire challenge Clef in unison, unconvinced by the gunslinger’s threat.

Clef balks at this, glancing wildly between the two siblings, before he sighs through his teeth, shaking his head for good measure. “Now I know what people mean when they say siblings share a damn brain.”

“If we’re sharing, it’s mine,” Claire says, smiling just enough for one of her dimples to show. It makes Jack smile too, but only a little. Then it’s gone, and Claire’s got her eyes glued to her older brother again, particularly his restraints. _“Christ…_ remind me to beat the shit out of Dad later.”

“As if you weren’t already planning on doing that,” Bright grumbles. “So what happens now that this isn’t a security breach? Not that I’m upset to see you or anything, but I doubt anyone on-site would’ve let you in just to visit me after I had an… _incident.”_ He goes with that, not having the heart to say that he tried to kill himself in front of his sister.

Claire bites her lip, looking damn near hesitant; it’s an odd look on her. “Honestly? I’m not sure. The old man sent out a message this morning at the crack of dawn on pretty much every channel this side of the solar system. Every station just kept repeating the words _'Code Eden'_ until I finally got into contact with the foundation.”

“Code Eden?” Jack repeats, the secret message unfamiliar to him, which is a shock, considering how many damn code-words he’s had to memorize over the years. “The _hell_ is Code Eden?”

“Beats me. All I know is that if Dad bothered to reach out _that_ far, it’s gotta be important,” Claire says, shrugging despite the circumstances. “Besides, I was gonna come out here anyways.”

Jack can’t help but smirk at this. “So I was right about you planning a break-in?”

Claire is much better at hiding her own smile, but Jack can still sense that she wants to. “Let's call it… a _meetup.”_ She offers, her eyes lingering momentarily on Clef, who’s still for some reason in the room.

To this, Clef just laughs. “Don’t bother lying ‘round me, miss. If anyone can see through a lie, it’s me.”

“It’s true,” Jack says. “I’m pretty sure Clef has never once been honest in his entire life. If you looked up _‘pathological liar’_ in the dictionary, his picture would be there instead of an actual definition.”

“Not that you would be able to tell it’s him,” Claire points out, which gets a surprised look from her brother. “What? I know my history, especially about such influential figures.”

“Aw, I’m _honored,”_ Clef says, his tone mocking. “Are you mad because I’m immune to your little taunts?”

“I dunno, Ukulele,” Claire growls, getting irritated again, but that’s not hard when you hang around Dr. Clef for too long. “Are you mad that your daughter is locked in a cage because you can’t keep your shit together for all of two minutes?”

Clef genuinely looks furious at this, and for a moment, Jack thinks he’s about to watch 239-B incident two, electric boogaloo, but before Clef can set his ukulele down, there's a loud crash from what sounds like several rooms down the hall, causing both him and Claire to stop dead in their tracks.

“Clarice, _there_ you are!” The unmistakable bark of Adam Bright’s voice echoes from out of sight, and a moment later, Jack sees him running to be with Claire in the doorway, his eyes squinted into a harsh glare pointed at his daughter. “I told you not to go wandering off around here; it was hard enough for me to convince the O5 to let you in, and I don’t need you making it any harder!”

“You really expect me to stay locked in an unfamiliar room all day, old man? Think again,” Claire bites right back, just as prone to starting arguments as her father. Bright bites back on a sigh, knowing that his dad doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she got that from him. “Besides, I wasn’t about to wait another minute without knowing if Jack was okay.”

Adam gives a mighty sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grimace. “Like I told you before, James survived his ordeal just fine. _See?_ I wasn’t lying, despite your instance to the contrary,” For a brief moment, he meets Bright’s eyes, but then he looks away as fast as possible. The rejection, though subtle, hurts. “In any case, I was coming to get him before you went missing on me; we’re ready for our meeting.”

“You gonna finally explain what’s going on? You know, for once in your damn life?” Claire asks, sounding eager for more information. Bright can’t blame her, as he feels the same way.

“I will tell you everything I can,” Adam keeps it vague, his mouth forming a tight, uncomfortable line. He suddenly startles, finally noticing that Clef is in the room, too. “Dr. Clef, what are _you_ doing here? I told everyone over the PA this morning to stay in lock-down until told otherwise!”

Clef shrugs, not the least bit intimidated by the presence of an O5 council member. “I just wanted to keep Jack here company, sir. He seemed pretty lonely, all locked up with no one to talk to and nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.”

Adam huffs, shaking his head in frustration. “Regardless of your feelings on the matter, my colleagues and I have made it _quite_ clear that Dr. Bright’s condition is _incredibly_ unstable, and he should not be bothered by anyone without my permission. Moving forward, I expect you to follow orders, or I’ll see to it that you are reprimanded for your actions.”

Clef remains unaffected, simply giving a short nod after the lecture. “Yes, sir. Next time I’ll just leave my peers to spiral into suicidal idealization for a _second_ time because no one bothered to explain their fucked up bloodline to them.” He stands up rather abruptly, and after briefly ruffling Bright’s hair, he shuffles to the doorway, shakes Claire’s hand, and shoulders past Adam without another word.

“Ain’t he a delight,” Claire mutters, the sarcasm not quite reaching her voice. “I heard rumors that Agent Ukulele went to the Foundation after he left his old crew, but I didn’t think it was true. Guess every rumor has an element of truth to it.”

“Not with Dr. Clef,” Bright says under his breath, before shooting his father and sister an unsteady look, not sure if he should be relieved or scared to see them in the same place. “So… what happens now.”

Adam grimaces. “Now comes the hard part… I suppose I should’ve seen this coming, but I thought I had more time to prepare. Either way, what’s done is done.”

“You’re being vague again,” Claire warns, glaring at her father with a vengeance. “What the hell are you going on about? What have you been hiding from us?”

“I wish you’d been born a little more patient, dear,” Adam grumbles as he rubs at his face, looking every bit of his age. “Help me with your brother, won’t you? We can’t have this conversation without the rest of the family, or out in the open, for that matter.”

Claire opens her mouth to keep giving him hell, but one glance at her brother has her shutting it. Stubbornly, she nods, stepping over to Bright to finally help him out of his restraints.

* * *

The next twenty minutes are a blur of arguments and saturated colors, Jack floundering like a fish out of water as he struggles to even keep his eyes open. Strangely enough, Adam decides that the body his son was placed on isn’t “fitting” enough for him, whatever that means, so after a short argument with the group of guards in front of the site’s D-Class wing, Adam has a short red-headed man brought out to him. Without so much as blinking, the O5 councilman yanks 963 off of Jack’s old body and puts it around the D-Class’ neck, leaving his son horrifically disoriented, a brain-dead body lying on the floor, and his daughter less than pleased, Claire chewing her dad out in the aftermath for wasting two lives for no good reason. Adam pretty much ignores her, choosing instead to grab Jack by the arm and lead him away like a puppy learning to go on walks, which is thankfully enough to keep Claire following him, even if she’s only doing so in order to stay with her brother.

There are well over a hundred something meeting rooms scattered throughout Site-19, seeing as it’s one of the most influential sites that the Foundation has in it’s arsenal. Jack’s been in damn near all of them by now, but with his very soul still trying to come to grips with it’s new body, he can’t pay attention to where his father is leading him, hardly even able to keep up with the man’s relentless pace, which forces the councilman to more or less drag him to their destination. At long last, Adam stops abruptly in front of a door, causing Jack to slam into him with a sudden yelp. The older scientist pauses, looking his son up and down. Offhandedly, Jack wonders if the man feels bad about what he just did, but then Adam looks away again, opening the door and dragging Jack through without so much as an apology. Claire follows him in, shutting the door behind her out of habit.

To Jack’s surprise, the meeting room his father has chosen is much more spacious than he was expecting, and upon closer examination, he recognizes it to be one of the O5’s private meeting halls; he’s only been in here once, he thinks, though the memory is hazy at best. However, what _isn’t_ surprising is that pretty much the whole family is here, at least as far as Jack can tell. He’s never heard of any aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents being a part of the Bright line, so just seeing TJ, Sarah, Mikell, and his mom already here makes the man feel completely surrounded by his family. The lot are dressed in casual or Foundation-issued clothing, the two SCPs of the family sitting on either side of their mother while Mikell kicks up his feet at one of the far ends of the table. Although they clearly don’t know what’s going on, TJ and Sarah seem happy enough, playing with a few action figures and dolls like they’re little kids at a family reunion.

“About time you finally got here,” Mikell says, his comment pointed at his father. “And here I was thinking you weren’t gonna make it,” After a few tense seconds, he glances at Claire, his glare softening. “Told ya that wanderin’ off would getcha into trouble, sis, but then again, you’ve never been all that good at listenin’ to your big brother.”

“Shut up, I just wanted to find Jack,” Claire says it almost fondly, but not quite, not when there’s still so much bad blood between her and Mikell in particular. “They had him strapped to a fucking _gurney,_ Mike. Like an _animal.”_

Adam bristles, quick to scold his eldest daughter for her comment. “Oh, and what would _you_ have done in my position, Clarice? Leave him with no restrictions so he can mutilate himself _again?_ The foundation and I are only trying to help him, and that means doing what’s best for him, even if it’s unpleasant.”

Jack subtly folds in on himself, feeling like he’s in the middle of a shoot out. He knows he has every right to be just as angry and vindictive as Claire- if anything, _he_ should be the one arguing with his dad!- but he’s too intimidated by Adam to so much as complain, preferring to just keep his mouth shut and wait out the storm.

“If you _actually_ wanted to help him, you would’ve done something _before_ it got this bad!” Claire snaps, and internally, Jack wonders if this is actually about him anymore, or if this just an excuse for the family to duke it out after over a decade of repressed anger and resentment. _“This_ is the problem with you and this entire _fucking_ foundation; all you people do is lock things up for being anomalous, never doing anything to actually help anyone. For Christ’s sake, look at what you did to _TJ!”_

 _Silence._ Everyone here knows all too well how badly TJ’s incarceration has affected Claire- they are, after all, still twins- so not even _Mikell_ is willing to say anything to break the tension or argue, the self-proclaimed cowboy tipping his hat down and staring at the floor to avoid his little sister’s gaze. The rest of the family follows his lead, save for TJ and Sarah. Sarah keeps playing, as is to be expected from her, but TJ just _stares_ at Claire, his eyes refusing to blink or deviate, transfixed on the sister he hasn’t seen in decades, the sister he might not even recognize anymore. Claire, in turn, falters under his gaze, something in her finally coming undone, and very slowly, she takes a long, deep breath, centering herself. Without a word, she sits in one of the available chairs- opposite from TJ, Jack notices- her head finding a place for itself in her hands as she continues her breathing exercises.

“It wasn’t Dad, Claire,” Jack mutters, after far too long a time. He should really just let this be the end of it, should just pretend this isn’t happening, but as he’s been told time and time again, he’s never been good at shutting up, especially when his work is involved. “It was… it was _me,_ sis. _I_ did this to him.”

Claire doesn’t look up, apparently deciding it’s better if she doesn’t respond. Jack can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not.

“You did what you thought was right, honey,” Evelyn Bright whispers, her familiar, honey-sweet voice making everyone in the room relax just the slightest bit. Mama always has been the glue that kept the family together. “No one blames you for doing your job. Besides, you were just following your father’s orders.” At that, she glowers at Adam, something that makes Jack take a step back, anger unfamiliar to him when it comes from his soft-spoken mother.

Adam has the good sense to duck his head in shame. “I- I didn’t-” He looks for an excuse, for someone else to blame, but he must realize how futile that is, as he quickly gives up, his eyes refusing to so much as glance at his wife, if she can even be called that anymore. Come to think of it, Jack can’t remember the last time he saw them together. “I need to grab something. I’ll be back soon.” He gives up, and just like that he’s hurrying out of the room, careful to lock the door behind him this time, lest one of his children tries to wander off again.

Jack tests the knob, mostly out of curiosity. “Don’t bother, Jack,” Mikell advises, looking much more relaxed now that Adam has left the room. “We all need to be here for this one… especially you.”

“What’s going on?” Jack asks, hoping his brother will be more straightforward with him than the resident fire starters of the family. “Look, I’m sorry that I… that I did what I did, but you _gotta_ understand, I didn’t do it to _hurt_ anyone. I just… I wanted it to _end._ It wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine,” He takes a breath, trying and failing not to notice that his mother is going to cry at any second. “Honestly, I’m surprised Dad cares at all. Either way, I don’t see why me being an idiot justifies a whole freaking family meeting.”

“First of all, lay off the shit-talkin’ in front of Ma,” Mikell says, trying to look stern with Jack, though he doesn’t have the scorn he needs for the job. He can try to be scary all he likes, but he knows as well as Jack and Claire that he’s still their big, goofy brother, no matter how old they all get. “Second of all… it wasn’t _Dad_ who called this meeting. It was me.”

Claire startles at that. “Wait, _what!?_ That’s not what Dad told me.”

Mikell shrugs, ignoring Claire’s surprise for the time being, though he’s careful to address the whole room as he explains himself. “Dad told me before I left to find Jack that I was to call him directly as soon as I found him, but the way he reacted, and the state I found Jackie in…” He glances briefly at his brother, his eyes wet at the edges. “Well, let’s just say something wasn’t adding up. After I got back, we argued back and forth for awhile, and eventually I talked him into calling everyone in for a family meeting. Dad’s hiding something, and I think it’s about time we all got some answers.”

“About time, honestly,” Claire mutters, crossing her arms with a huff. “What did it take to get the old man to crack?”

“Dunno,” Mikell replies honestly enough. “I like to think he’s as worried about Jack as I am. Speaking of which,” He turns to his younger brother again, this time glaring at the researcher. “What the hell were you _thinking,_ Jack!? Do you have _any_ idea how fuckin’ _worried_ we all were about you?”

Jack sighs, wishing he could sink through the floor and disappear rather than have this conversation with his family. “I didn’t set out to hurt anyone, Mikell,” He repeats his sentiment from earlier, staring at the ceiling to try and will away his tears, but it’s a battle he knows he’ll lose. “I just… I thought if I got away, died somewhere quiet without any of my usual theatrical crap, it would make it easier for everyone to deal with. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“Well, you failed,” Mikell deadpans, angrier than a soaked tomcat. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you, Jack… I thought I was gonna have to drag your corpse back and tell Ma what you’d done! Do you know how _terrible_ that woulda been? How _heartbreaking?”_ Mom’s well and truly crying now, with no signs of stopping, which only makes TJ and Sarah grow teary-eyed beside her.

Jack can’t help but feel angry, frustrated with his brother’s inability to understand his side of things. “I _told_ you, I didn’t do this as some sick way of guilt-tripping you or anyone else in the family!” He snaps, going so far as to bear his teeth at Mikell. “You can’t tell me that I’m just doing this for attention; I _genuinely_ tried to kill myself, Mike! I’ve been dying for _years_ now, but no matter how many times I tried to make it obvious, tried to get some help, I was told to shut up and just _enjoy_ my fucking immortality, to stop _wasting it_ trying to die. I didn’t _ask_ for this, Mike; I didn’t ask to have these _damn_ powers. If I could give them up, I would, and I’d be happy to live the rest of my life like a normal human being, but instead, I’m going to have to watch everyone I’ve ever loved slowly die in front of me, followed by their children, and then _their_ children, until all that’s left is me. I don’t… I don’t _want_ that. I don’t think anyone does.”

There’s a long, strenuous pause, until finally, Mikell finds the will to speak again. “Jack,” He says in the same soft, low tone he used when he held Jack’s bleeding body in his arms nearly a day ago. “Do you… do you _still_ want to die? Do you wish it had worked?”

Jack freezes, feeling just as put-off as he did when SCP-963 asked him this same question earlier, though that was under much calmer circumstances. Here, with his face red, his hands clenched, and a deep desire to fight someone so they’ll draw his blood, Jack Bright again considers his life as something outside of himself. It was once such a fragile thing, showcased as such when he died at the hands of a murderer, but then he was brought back. He was, and still is to some degree, a miracle, yet he feels like anything but. More than anything, Jack feels listless and misunderstood, forced to walk amongst people who have no chance of understanding him, of empathizing with his pain. And even if they _did_ empathize, even if they _did_ try to understand, what good would it do if they’ll still die long before he does, if he ever even _will?_ Not for the first time, Jack feels like he’s supposed to feel hopeful, like he’s supposed to suddenly realize how loved he is and magically feel better about everything, but all he feels is sick and, above all else, _afraid._

“I…” Jack glances around the room, at the teary eyes of all his loved ones, and he wishes he could lie, but he isn’t sure if he can anymore. Not after lying for so many years. “I don’t know.”

It’s not even a definitive answer, not even a fucking _yes,_ but it’s enough to make Mom _wail_ in agony, putting her head in her hands as she cries her old, weathered heart out. TJ and Sarah start crying as well, though the latter of the two doesn’t seem to understand why she is. Claire pointedly doesn’t look at anyone as she gets up, crosses the room, and more or less huddles in a corner, very obviously crying but trying very hard to hide it. Mikell bows his head again, tucking his hat down over his eyes to hide his steadily falling tears, his mouth formed into a tight grimace. The scene altogether makes Jack wish he was dead even more than he did before, if only so it might not hurt as bad for his family. If he had just died clean and quietly like he planned, had just disappeared like a stray cat from the neighborhood, then no one would have had to hear the truth face to face like this, his family only left with a voiceless will and testament to live in their phones for the rest of time. Maybe then they could’ve lied to themselves and not realized how bad it really was, how bad it _still is._

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Jack chokes the words out, tears pouring down his face like waterfalls as he struggles to do so much as breathe, his guilt weighing him down and threatening to choke him like the amulet around his neck. He wishes it would. “I’m so- I’m so _sorry!”_

When Mikell stands up, Jack flinches away out of reflex, ready to be pummeled for making their mama and little siblings cry like this, but instead, the self-proclaimed cowboy steps over and pulls him into a tight, desperate sort of hug. Jack goes still in the embrace, confused and hiccuping up a storm. Why isn’t he being hit or yelled at? He just proved that trying to save him is a waste, didn’t he? So why is Mikell showing him _kindness?_ Why is he still bothering to reach out when he knows the truth, knows that nothing can save his kid brother? Despite the circumstances, Jack can’t help but wrap his arms around Mikell and bury his face in the older man’s shirt, letting the fabric absorb his tears and muffle his sobs. Mikell just rubs Jack’s back in circles, the tremble of his chin suggesting he’s just as heartbroken as everyone else is, but he’s much too proud to show it.

“It’s alright,” Mikell murmurs, voice so low that Jack can barely hear him, though the room is incredibly quiet by now, save for muffled sobs and whimpers from everyone present. “It’s alright, Jackie… I’m sorry, too. I’m so, _so_ sorry.” He says, hugging his brother even tighter as the words leave his mouth.

“Why- why are _you_ sorry?” Jack asks, still a mess when he tries to speak. He feels like the only things keeping him together at this point are SCP-963 and the strong arms wrapped around his chest.

“I should’ve seen the signs, should’ve done somethin’ sooner. Claire’s right; you were hurtin’, and none of us did anything to help you” Mikell says, one of his hands grabbing a fistful of Jack’s D-Class jumper and refusing to let go. “I guess I just… I guess I just thought that it wasn’t as bad as it was. I didn’t want to believe you were really dying.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Jack just nods against Mikell’s chest, more tears smearing against the other man’s shirt. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, feeling the need to say it again.

“I know,” Mikell assures, thankfully not telling Jack to take back his apology, as he really doesn’t need to hear that right now. “Just breathe, Jackie boy… I know it’s hard, but please breathe for me, okay? Breathe for all of us.”

Jack nods again, going quiet as he closes his eyes and, for once in his life, does as he’s told.


	2. Code Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheheh, Bright family go brrrrrrr.

_ “Come on Alex, you can do it _

_ Come on Alex, there's nothing to it _

_ If you want something, don't ask for nothing _

_ If you want nothing, don't ask for something” _

_ Neighborhood #2 “Laika” - Arcade Fire _

~~~

By the time that Adam returns to the meeting hall, his family is in a rather teary eyed state, much to the councilman’s confusion. “What the hell happened while I was gone?” He asks, instinctively looking to his wife for answers, but she refuses to so much as meet his eyes.

“Fuck off.” Claire bites out, low and angry.

Adam, very wisely, backs off and drops the subject completely, deciding that it isn’t worth the trouble to keep prying. Ignoring his softly crying family members, he carries an armload of documents, a black suitcase, and a few other scattered materials over to the head of the table. Jack moves to help him with the burden, feeling like a young, inexperienced aid in the lab all over again, but Mikell holds him even tighter in response, not letting his brother go. Jack can’t even huff or roll his eyes at this, some part of him relieved to be told, even without words, that he needs to just shut up and keep being held together. Soon enough, Adam finishes setting up the table to his liking, though he’s smart enough not to say it out loud, preferring to silently take his seat and just wait all of this emotional shit out. After all, he’s never been very good with feelings, leaving most of that to his wife to deal with.

Eventually, Mikell’s hold loosens, and Jack takes the opportunity to lift a hand and rub at his own face to try and rid it of it’s gross, blotchy texture. This is enough to make Mikell’s arms finish untangling themselves from around the shorter man, and as he pulls away, Jack notices tears streaming down his brother’s face. Mikell is quick to wipe them away, returning to his earlier seat without a word, which admittedly worries Jack, but knowing his kin, he doesn’t take it personally, remembering all the times Mikell has flipped between clingy and cold at the drop of a hat; it’s saved his life on the field, and it’s a hard thing to try and turn off, even for his family. Trying to move past the moment as well, Jack shuffles to one of the available chairs, choosing one somewhere between Claire and Mikell. He’s tempted to sit closer to TJ, but that would involve being near Mom, and seeing as he just made her cry… maybe now isn’t the best time.

Claire returns to her seat around the same time as Jack, and it’s as she’s rubbing at her eyes that Adam speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Is everyone ready for our meeting now?” He asks, waiting patiently for a response.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Jack mutters, unable to meet his father’s eyes for fear of being seen through and judged.

“Go ahead, Adam,” Mom says, using a hand-rag to rub away the last of TJ’s tears, a fake but nonetheless kind smile on her weathered face. “It’s about time we told them the truth.”

“So Dad’s not the only one in on this?” Mikell asks almost hypothetically, his gaze sour when he looks upon his mother, more wary than ever before. “I figured he wasn’t above hiding family secrets, but… _ Jesus,  _ Ma.” He looks away, somewhere between embarrassed and angry. Jack can’t say he blames him, having trouble thinking of their mother as anything close to conniving or untruthful. To him she’s always been loving, kind Mama.

Mom takes that surprisingly well to Mikell’s jab, all things considered. “I may wear my heart on my sleeve, baby boy, and I may cry easier than most, but your father isn’t the only one with a bloody past behind him. If anything, mine is worse than his in some ways.”

Adam raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Now that’s saying something.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Hush, you,” She says. “We’ve been putting this off long enough, haven’t we? It’s about time we tell them the truth.”

“Are you volunteering to go first?” Adam asks, sounding damn near eager for an excuse to take the backseat.

“Oh heavens no,” Mom shakes her head, the slightest bit of a smirk showing. “You’re the one who insisted on keeping our children in the dark, so you’re going to be the one to explain everything. Besides, you  _ clearly  _ have a plan, seeing as you brought an entire cart’s worth of supplies for lord knows what.”

Adam glances at the suitcase, letting out a long, tired sigh. “I suppose I do… very well, my dear,” He stands up slowly, the joints in his back making a loud popping sound as he does. “Dammit, these bones are getting old,” He mutters, moving on quickly. “As I’m sure many of you are aware, your mother and I have been hiding something from you for your entire lives. Long before Mikell was even born, we agreed to never tell our future family the truth about ourselves, if only to spare you from heartbreak and worry, but as more of you developed anomalous abilities… I came to the realization that hiding the truth forever was, unfortunately, going to be impossible.”

“Why didn’t you come clean sooner, then?” Jack asks, having just enough anger in him to glare daggers at his dad. “If you really had a change of heart after some of us proved to be anomalous… then why did you wait? Why didn’t you warn us?”

“Do you want the truth, James? I didn’t want to talk about it, not after all that happened. I thought that if I tried to explain myself, it would only make things worse for you all,” Adam admits, no real shame radiating from him, just acceptance. “Looking back, that was, to put it very lightly, an unwise decision. I should have explained all of this to you the day that the foundation took TJ away from us.”

TJ glances up, giving his father a confused look. “Me?” He asks, curious as ever.

A rare smile crosses Adam’s face. “Yes, we’re talking about  _ you, _ son. Don’t fret about us, just keep playing with your little sister.”

TJ nods, returning to his pretend game with Sarah.

Adam sighs, and now Jack can see the smallest spark of regret in his eyes. “Like I was saying, I foolishly decided to keep me and your mother’s origins a secret, which in turn has led to… well, a lot of trauma all around.”

“Just fucking say it already!” Claire snaps, losing what little patience she has left. “Stop skipping around the elephant in the room, old man; what are you and Mom hiding from us?” She pauses to breathe, eyes ablaze with both anger and something close to fear. “Dad, just… just tell us the  _ truth. _ Why are so many of us anomalous? Why didn’t Jack die?”

Offhandedly, Jack wonders if this is the first time he’s heard Claire call their father  _ ‘Dad’  _ since… well, since before she ran away and never came back. For some reason, it makes him uncomfortable.

Adam takes a deep breath, not having the heart to scold his daughter for snapping at him. “Fine,” He says, low and serious. “The truth is that your mother and I were once immortals. More accurately, we were the  _ first _ immortals.”

All at once, the room erupts into questions from the three oldest progeny, the lot of them verbally scrambling over each other in an attempt to be heard, much like dogs trying to get out the front door when the mailman arrives.

“What do you mean by  _ that?  _ Did you and Mom discover how to reach immortality?” Jack asks.

“How did you _lose_ _it?_ If Jack is anything to go off of, that’s obviously not the case!” Mikell argues.

Claire looks close to standing up in her chair so she’ll be the most noticeable of the lot. “The hell do you mean by  _ first? _ How old  _ are _ you two!?”

“Settle down, children, settle down” Mom orders, soft but unbending. “Give your father a minute to answer your questions; you’re going  _ much  _ too fast for him.”

Adam spares his wife a smile for the help, awkwardly adjusting his tie as his tongue betrays him. He’s never been good with confrontation. “I’ll answer your questions as well as I can, however… you need to understand that some things are just as confusing to me as they will be to you, and I don’t have all the answers, no matter how much of my life I’ve spent searching for them. Nonetheless, I can try my best to answer what I can,” He glances over his children, his eyes settling on his oldest. “Mikell, you’re the eldest of your siblings, so I’ll let you go first. Then Jack, and then Claire.”

“Bullshit.” Claire grumbles, low enough that the little ones thankfully don't have to hear her swear.

“Alright, uh,” Now that he’s being more or less called to the stand, Mikell falters, struggling to find the right words, too accustomed to shooting first and asking questions after the fact. “I’ll just, um, borrow from Jackie a bit, if no one minds. How did you and Ma become immortal to begin with?”

Adam hesitates, grimacing as he thinks. “We were…  _ born  _ with it, more or less.”

“Oh  _ God,” _ Jack suddenly whispers, a terrifying thought dawning on him. “You and Mom aren’t… you aren’t  _ siblings, _ are you?”

Half the room gags, just as disgusted as Jack.

“Christ son, of  _ course  _ not!” Adam snaps, angry that Jack would even  _ assume  _ such a disgusting thing. “Just because the Lord looked fondly upon both of us does  _ not _ make us siblings! Furthermore, I haven’t finished answering Mikell yet; wait your turn.”

“Wait,  _ what  _ about God?” Mikell asks, confused that his father brought it up. “I thought you were, I dunno, fuckin’  _ aethist  _ or somethin’. You never really brought up religion when we were growin’ up, ya know.”

Adam shakes his head, frustrated. “You’re correct in assuming I’m not religious, Mikell, but that has nothing to do with this. The reason I brought up the Lord is that, well…” He hesitates again, looking conflicted. “I don’t know how best to describe this, but your mother and I… we were the first humans alive. We are, in fact, the Adam and Eve from the Bible.”

“Which got a lot of things wrong, mind you,” Mom adds before her kids can get any- no pun intended- bright ideas. “But I suppose that’s what happens when you tell your story to a passerby and he decides to put a different spin on it for the sake of making the story more interesting… never trust a self-proclaimed journalist before such a profession even exists.”

“How… how does that even  _ work?” _ Mikell just  _ stares _ at his parents, befuddled being a light word when describing his current state.

Adam has the gall to shrug. “It works in that when God made the world and kick-started evolution across the planet, your mother and I were the first things born that could hold the title of human beings,” He fiddles with one of the documents he brought along, his mannerisms anxious and uncomfortable. “I suppose he… well, he was  _ fascinated  _ with us, so when we managed to survive to adulthood, he whisked us away to Eden, and kept us there as his personal…” He fumbles, looking for the right words. Jack bites his lip, struggling not to see the similarities between Adam and Mikell; neither are all that good at talking in front of a crowd.

“We were like reality TV stars, and God was the only one who got to watch,” Evelyn explains, taking over so Adam can regain his composure. “It was terrifying, in all honesty. One minute we were with our families, just trying to survive, the next, we were in a massive garden, and two giant eyes were watching us, unblinking.”

“That’s…  _ horrible,” _ Jack deadpans, only to backtrack a moment too soon. “I’m sorry, that was-”

“-You’re fine, dear,” Mom says, offering her son a small, gentle smile. “And you’re not wrong, either; it  _ was  _ awful. However, there were good things as well. In Eden, we were naive and happy, with limitless food and resources. But of course, a snake slithered into that so-called paradise, and the rest is muddled history.”

Claire glances around the room, unsure if she can speak yet, but she does so anyway. “What was… the  _ real  _ story, Mom? What did the Bible get wrong?”

Mom sighs heavily. “Like I said before, some parts of the Bible’s retelling are true, but obviously not all of them. Lucifer took the form of a snake, and he came to me while I was weeping alone, longing for the primitive family I couldn’t ever rejoin. He offered me freedom, as well as my senses back… of course I bit the apple. And because I loved your father, I shared it with him.”

“God was  _ furious,” _ Adam continues, cutting in now that he’s finished his break. “He accused us of dismissing his gifts, or not loving him like we should, and in retaliation, he stripped us of our immortality, as well as a few other gifts he’d given us. However… it didn’t quite  _ work. _ You see, when a being is blessed with immortality in the way that your mother and I were- by being touched and furthermore  _ chosen  _ by a God- then that gift never quite goes away; it writes itself into your very soul, and you are forever divine.”

“That’s what SCP-963 called me!” Jack blurts out, excited to hear something familiar.

There’s an awkward pause as everyone glances at the doctor. “SCP-963…  _ spoke _ to you?” Mikell repeats, slow and unsure.

Nervously, Jack nods. “After I…  _ fell asleep _ earlier-” He ignores the way Claire clicks her tongue in disagreement. “-Instead of just being unconscious until I was given a new body, I found myself in what might have been another realm. There, I met a being that claimed to be SCP-963, and we spoke for a short while. They couldn’t tell me much, but they mentioned my soul being divine.”

Adam nods, not as put-off as his children are by the news. “That makes sense, though I’m surprised that you made contact with the being in your amulet. And here I was thinking it was uninhabited with anything but you.”

Jack shrugs. “They said that I, um… that I needed to talk to them, since I’d fallen so far. I guess they care about me, as much as a lifeless spirit trapped in a piece of jewelry can, anyway.”

“Intriguing,” Adam whispers, eyes alight with wonder. He is, after all, a scientist at heart. “I want a full report on your encounter with SCP-963 by the end of the week, understand?”

“Adam!” Mom snaps, giving her husband a harsh glare. “Don’t give him such a tight deadline, especially after all he’s been through!”

_ “Can _ I even give you a report?” Jack asks almost hypothetically. “I thought I was, you know… gonna be locked up after that little, uh,  _ stunt _ I pulled.”

Adam shakes his head, appearing frustrated. “No Jack, you’re not going to be locked up, though most of the council certainly would prefer you to be. Instead, you’re on  _ very _ thin ice, ice which I will not let you fracture any further,” He glares now at his son, colder than the ice he’s using as a metaphor. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to beg the council to be lenient with you, to not lock you up like TJ and Sarah, but if you  _ ever  _ do something like this again, I won’t be able to save you, understand?”

“Is that a  _ threat?” _ Claire stands up and challenges Adam, eyes piercing and unyielding.

“It is,” Adam says, not so much as blinking at Claire’s tone. “I don’t like it anymore than you, my dear, but your brother has been towing the line for  _ years,  _ and he needs to shape up, or he’s going to become a much less  _ unofficial  _ SCP.”

Mikell coughs awkwardly into his fist, obviously quite uncomfortable. “Can we, uh, get back to you and Ma bein’ Bible characters, or am I the only one still hung up on that?”

“Of course,” Mom takes over again, not giving Adam the chance to start another argument with any of his offspring. “After God stripped us of our immortality, we were left divine, meaning that so long as we aren’t completely beheaded, our bodies will regenerate, and keep us alive for…  _ forever, _ really.”

_ “Completely _ beheaded?” Jack questions, startled by the word choice. “Is there a way to  _ not  _ be?”

Claire bites back a chuckle. “I think I get it. Are you familiar with Nearly Headless Nick from Harry Potter?”

“How dare you assume I’ve read Harry Potter.” Jack says in turn.

Mom laughs outright, which lifts the mood of the room more than it has any right to. “You’re not far off, Claire,” She says, still giggling when she glances at Adam, whose face has gone suspiciously red. “Care to fill them in, dear?”

Adam huffs, averting his eyes with a grim expression on his face. “Let’s just say that I was… a little  _ relieved _ when the guillotine replaced the axe; no reason to leave such a task to human error.”

Everyone else shivers at that, not needing any further explanation.

“So that’s it?” Mikell asks, clapping his hands together almost excitedly. “You and Mom are the original Adam and Eve, you had immortality, and now you don’t? Am I missing anything?”

“A fair amount,” Adam damn near growls, frustrated with Mikell for trying to end the meeting earlier than intended. “Sit down, Mikell; we’ve much more to go.”

Mikell huffs, flopping back into his seat with a groan. “Can we at  _ least  _ take a smoke break? I’m dyin’ over here! Besides, I think we could all use a few minutes to let this sink in.”

Adam looks ready to say no, but after thinking it over, he sighs, giving his eldest son a short nod. “Fine. We’ll all take a short, fifteen minute break, then we can regroup. Is everyone happy with that?”

“Can we make it thirty minutes?” Claire asks, holding up her hand for once before asking a question, but then again, no one else has been doing it, either. “I need to make a phone call.”

“To _ whom?”  _ Adam looks  _ furious, _ eyes squinted in an accusing glare. “Do you plan on outing our family to your little cult, Clarice?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Of course not, old man. I just need to check in with my partner; don’t want him getting worried about me while I’m away.”

Mikell and Jack share equally upset looks, their big brother alarms in their heads going off. “Partner?” Jack repeats, feigning confusion. “Like, a  _ work  _ partner, or-”

“-I have a boyfriend,” Claire deadpans, not bothering to dance around it, especially not after she gave her father hell for doing the same thing earlier. Speaking of him, she glares at Adam again, intense and out of patience. “So can I call him or what? I’d rather  _ not _ have to talk my organization down from storming the place when they realize I’m here.”

Adam, thank God, isn’t as overprotective as his sons, but Jack thinks that’s mostly due to his and Claire’s many, many issues. “Very well, but don’t take all day; we’ll continue the meeting when you return.”

“Cool,” Claire says, grabbing her bag from under the table and gunning it for the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can; try not to burn the house down while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Jack yells just before Claire leaves the room. He then turns to Mikell, giving him a nervous glance. “Did you, uh,  _ know _ she had a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Mikell deadpans, popping the  _ ‘P’  _ for extra effect. He stands, pulling out a box of cigarettes as he follows Claire’s lead and heads for the door. “Try not to stress about it, Jackie boy; I’m sure he’s just some dumbass from the cult that fell head over heels for her.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Jack grumbles.

Mikell stops to ruffle Jack’s hair, his smile soft and amused. “Me too, but you know she’s as stubborn as a fuckin’ mule. No matter what we say, she’s gonna keep datin’ him, so all we can do is intimidate the shit outta him when she next brings the guy to supper.”

At that, Jack deflates. “As if we’ll ever see her again after this… she’ll probably disappear again.”

“She might,” Mikell admits, remaining stubbornly optimistic. “But I get the feeling we’re finally gonna start staying connected with her… just take a break, lil’ bro,” He pats Jack on the head again, giving his father a nod as he moves for the door. “I’ll be back in a bit, Pops.”

The room now free of two of his siblings, Jack feels the freedom to put his head on the table and groan, his hands finding a place for themselves on the back of his neck. Idly, he wonders what it would be like to be beheaded, but then again, even  _ that  _ probably wouldn’t kill him at this point.

Mom and Adam, in the meantime, share a glance between the two of them, not that Jack can see them from his position. “James,” Adam says, his tone as emotionless as ever, but his son can tell that he’s  _ trying  _ to be softer. Trying is the important word here. “Your mother and I are going to step out for a moment as well. Do you mind watching your siblings while we’re gone?”

Jack shakes his head, still not looking up. “Go ahead, I’ve got ‘em.” He grumbles into the table.

There’s a pause, then the telltale scraping of two chairs on a thinly carpeted floor. “Timmy, Sarah, Mommy and Daddy are going to go get a drink, but don’t worry, your big brother Jack will keep you company, alright? Be good to each other while I’m gone.” Mom instructs, audibly kissing their foreheads before she walks away.

On their way out the door, Adam pats Jack on the back and Mom presses a kiss to the side of his head, and just like that, the door snaps shut behind them, leaving the researcher alone with his two youngest siblings. He knows he should really pick his head up and actually babysit them like a responsible big brother would, but he’s so unbelievably tired, and despite everyone’s insistence of the contrary, he thinks that both TJ and Sarah are much more clever than they’re given credit for, so he’s not too worried about them doing anything stupid. It’s quiet for awhile, TJ and Sarah doing God knows what while Jack dozes, but before long, the doctor hears one of them get out of their chair. He goes still, ready to sit up and check what’s going on, but his head feels oh so heavy, and the table is pleasantly cold against his forehead, so he stays where he is, not having the energy to do anything but remain still.

Whoever gets up roams idly around the room, their footsteps quickly indicating to Jack that they’re TJ and not Sarah, or else they would’ve fallen down by now. With his brother obviously not about to stop him, TJ starts running laps around the table, giggling under his breath at the freedom he feels at being able to run around like this. Sarah giggles as well, feeling included in the mischief despite not being able to take part in it. Jack continues to ignore them both, not as concerned as he knows he should be. Eventually, TJ runs out of most of his youthful energy, coming to a stop near his seat, but instead of sitting back down and continuing to play with his and Sarah’s toys, he gets down on all fours and crawls under the table, slowly but surely making his way over to his big brother.

Jack smiles, pretending to be oblivious as TJ crawls closer and closer to him, until suddenly, the younger boy grabs one of his ankles. “Ah!” Jack lets out a loud, exaggerated yelp of surprise as he sits up, making both Sarah and TJ roar with laughter. “What on  _ earth  _ just grabbed me!? Is there a  _ ghost  _ in here?” He asks out loud, looking around in mock confusion. “Oh  _ no, _ I’m  _ so  _ afraid of ghosts; if only I had my brave little brother here to protect me!”

“‘M notta ghost!” TJ yells from beneath the table, poking his head out at Jack a moment later. “Is jus’ me!”

“Oh, thank God,” Jack says, still smiling as he grabs TJ by the arms and, with a bit of effort, drags the boy out from under the table. “Hiya, buddy,” He murmurs, pulling TJ to sit on his lap, the position more comfortable than it was the last time he held his little brother. “How ya doing today, kidlet? Having fun?”

“Kinda bored,” TJ says, looking about ready to put some of his fingers in his mouth, but instead he swipes the pair of glasses Jack was wearing off of his face, beginning to fiddle with them. He giggles, putting them on and grinning. “Yer goggles ‘re funny!”

Jack huffs, rolling his eyes as he goes to retrieve his glasses, but TJ turns his head away, not ready to give them back so soon. “They’re not goggles, kiddo; they’re my  _ glasses, _ and I need them to see!” He actually means it too, as Dad happened to find the one redheaded D-Class that needs glasses.

TJ grimaces at that, confused. “How?” He asks. “Makes seein’ harder, not better.”

“For you maybe, but your sight is much better than mine,” Jack points out, finally managing to get his glasses back, but before he can put them back on, he notices Sarah staring at him from across the table. “Um… do you wanna try ‘em on, Sarah?” He asks, offering the glasses to her. He worries she’ll break them, but it seems mean to leave her out.

Sarah’s eyes widen a bit, the ginormous woman surprised that she’s even been noticed. “Is okay?” She asks, her voice slurred from a lack of use.

Jack nods. “Of course it is! I mean, if TJ gets a chance, so should you.” He holds out the glasses further, though he makes sure to wrap his other arm around TJ’s waist so the boy won’t lose his balance and fall.

Sarah takes them, holding them like they’re a foreign object in her big, cumbersome hands. “Shiny.” She whispers, turning the glasses over in her hands a few times, her fingers rubbing all over the lenses and smudging them, but Jack hasn’t the heart to stop her.

“They sure are,” Jack agrees, unable to keep back a smile. It’s so rare that he gets to spend time with Sarah, and seeing her so curious makes him wonder if, had she not been stillborn, would she have been a scientist like him? She certainly has the curiosity that’s needed for the job! “Why don’t you try ‘em on, sis? You saw how me and TJ wore them, right? Just put ‘em over your eyes!”

Sarah beams, moving to do just that, but it quickly becomes obvious that her head is far too big for the glasses, and before Jack can stop her, they break in half in her hands.

“…Oops,” Sarah says, tears beginning to slip down her face. “Am sorry, Ackie. Didn’t want to.” She offers the remains of the glasses to her older brother, unbothered by the shattered plastic that can’t break through her unnaturally hardened skin.

“It’s fine.” Jack lies, accepting the mess with a barely concealed grimace. He dumps it on the table, already feeling a headache coming on.

“How ya gonna see?” TJ asks, concerned for his brother.

Jack bites his lip, struggling not to get angry about this. “Um… I’ll figure it out.” He says, quietly praying that no one will notice. With any luck, Adam won’t remember that his son’s new body needs glasses.

* * *

“What the hell happened to your glasses?” Mikell asks the minute he comes back, raising an eyebrow at the shattered mess on the table.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jack more or less orders, tempted to dust the plastic onto the floor, but he doesn’t want to risk TJ touching it if he wants to crawl around again later.

“Um,  _ okay?”  _ Mikell smiles, laughing under his breath at the nonsense of it all. “You havin’ fun in here, buddy?” He turns his attention to TJ, wanting to check on his youngest brother.

“Yeah!” TJ chirps, jostling Jack as he sits up in his lap, holding out his hand to Mikell, which the cowboy sees is covered in origami claws. “Jackie made me kitty claws!”

Mikell snorts, bending down to TJ’s level and feigning fascination. “Wow, those ‘re really cool, TJ; now you look like a super scary lion!”

TJ giggles, shaking his head. “Lions not scary!” He insists, leaning towards Mikell enough that he smashes his torso into Jack’s face, producing a muffled groan from the older boy. “See? Not even hurty!” He adds, scratching at Mikell’s hat.

Jack, in the meantime, huffs against TJ’s stomach, making the boy laugh as hot air blows on his tummy. “I’d like it if you  _ didn’t _ crush my face, lil’ guy,” He grumbles, freeing his arms to grab TJ and pull him back down, making him sit on his lap again. He then glares at Mikell, blaming him for his now tousled state. “You sure took awhile. How many cigarettes did ya smoke, huh? A whole pack?”

“As if you don’t have a serious alcohol problem yourself,” Mikell says, notably not denying it. He plops down in a chair next to Jack, eyeing the paper claws on TJ’s hands again. “Since when did you know how to do origami? Here I thought Ma was the paper-craft wizard.”

“Kondraki taught me a few years back,” Jack explains, his smile returning as he remembers the grins he got from Sarah and TJ after making them each a set of claws. “I only know how to make claws and cups, though. He tried teaching me how to make cranes too, but I could never get it quite right… plus Clef wouldn’t stop screwing with me while I practiced.”

Mikell chuckles at this. “You eggheads are always getting into so much trouble, ya know that? Sometimes I worry Clef is a bad influence on you.”

Jack grimaces. “I’m forty-seven.” He points out.

“Yeah, well you’re always gonna be my kid brother,” Mikell says, ruffling Jack’s hair with a laugh. He gives the same treatment to TJ, who sneers at him once he’s done. “Aw, what’s wrong, buddy? Don’t like head ruffles from your biggest most wonderful brother?”

“No.” TJ deadpans, squirming in Jack’s arms until the older boy lets go, giving him the chance to clamber under the table again, only for him to return to his seat next to Sarah. Once he reaches it, he sits down, glares at Mikell, and sticks his tongue out at him.

Mikell howls with laughter in response, much to TJ’s frustration. Jack’s tempted to laugh as well, but he bites his tongue to stop himself, not wanting to hurt TJ’s feelings.

A few minutes later, Mom and Adam return, the both of them pausing in the doorway. “What's going on in here, hm? Are my children having fun together?” Mom asks, smiling at her progeny with such love in her eyes, it makes Jack’s heart feel swollen.

“No!” TJ snaps, glaring daggers at Mikell. “Mikey’s no fun! Doesn’t like lions! ‘N he hurt my head!”

“Mikell?” Mom asks, her tone full of warning, so much so that Jack gulps, even though he knows he isn’t the one in trouble here. “Is this true?”

“First of all, I didn’t say that I don’t like lions. Jack made TJ some paper claws, and I said he looked like a scary lion, but I guess TJ didn’t like that. Second of all, I  _ never  _ hurt him; I only ruffled his hair, for Christ’s sake,” Mikell explains, hands behind his head as he leans back and huffs. “He’s just bein’ dramatic, Ma.”

“Don’t tease your younger siblings, Mikell,” Mom chastises, lightly tapping her eldest son on the nose. “It’s not nice.”

Adam, in the meantime, raises an eyebrow at the mess on the table. “James, what on earth happened to your glasses?”

Jack visibly deflates. “Oh, uh, nothing really.” He lies.

Mom notices the glasses as well, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. “Oh my goodness, Jack! Was anyone hurt?”

Jack sags even more at his mother’s worried tone. “It’s  _ fine, _ I swear. I just dropped ‘em, that’s all.”

“Your glasses falling on the floor- which is covered in carpet- made them break in half and completely shatter?” Adam asks, obviously not buying it.

“Sure, why not?” Jack mutters as he shrugs nonchalantly, and without realizing it, he mirrors Mikell’s pose.

Adam shakes his head, sighing through his teeth. “Such wild boys…” He grumbles, returning to the head of the table so he can prepare for the rest of the meeting.

While Mom returns to fussing over TJ and Sarah on the other side of the table, and Mikell falls into a light sleep- how he does it in such a weird position, his feet on the table and his chair threatening to fall backwards, the doctor has no idea- Jack glances awkwardly around the room, unsure of what to do now that everyone’s coming back. He chances a look at the nearest clock, eyeing the time. It’s only been a little over an hour since they started their break, and while he knows his sister is fully capable of taking care of herself… Jack can’t help but wonder where Claire is. Did she wander off and get lost? Did a researcher recognize her and attack her for being a Serpent's Hand member? He shivers, unnerved by the thought.

The moment Jack begins to stand, Adam gives him a confused look. “Where exactly are  _ you  _ going, Jack?” He asks, failing to hide the irritation from his voice.

Jack shrugs, trying not to look suspicious. “Just wanna walk around a bit, that’s all. Plus I gotta piss.”

Mom raises an eyebrow, tempted to scold Jack for the crude language, but she lets it go. Adam, meanwhile, looks his son up and down. “…Just don’t go far.” He says, and for whatever reason, Jack thinks he almost sounds worried about him.

“I won’t,” Jack says as he heads for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Once the door clicks shut behind him, Jack breathes out a sigh of relief, glad to finally, truly be alone, even if it’ll only be for a short while. Not knowing where Claire even went to make her phone call, he heads to his quarters first, wanting desperately to change into something that isn’t an itchy D-Class jumpsuit. Just like when Adam took him to the meeting room, Jack doesn’t run into anyone on his way to his room, leading him to believe that his father wasn’t lying when he told Clef that the site is on a mild lock-down. It’s strange, walking down empty hallways that are usually bustling with scientists and security personnel, but Jack finds it quite refreshing, pleased to have some actual time to himself, though he still feels bad for causing so much panic in the facility he calls home.

To Jack’s relief, his personal quarters still open when he punches in his personal key-code, so at least no one else has taken over since he left, not that there was much time for it. Dr. Jack Bright’s private quarters are larger than one might expect for someone who isn’t an O5 council member or site director, but most scientists on his level are allowed what’s more or less a small apartment to themselves, complete with a full bathroom, a bedroom, an office, and a combined living room and kitchen. It’s a little quaint, being meant for only a bachelor or a young couple, but it’s home, and Jack won’t deny that being here makes him feel safe. However, while stepping through the threshold, the researcher freezes, noticing right away that although his residency hasn’t been given to someone else, people have  _ definitely  _ been in here since he left.

For one thing, there are documents all over the coffee table in the living room, scattered like leaves on an unmaintained sidewalk in the countryside. Rather cautiously, Jack begins to investigate the crime scene, looking for any clues as to who’s been here. Over time, he finds little things that point to different people he knows; one of Rights’ fancy pens has been left on the coffee table, Crow left a dog dish in the kitchen sink, an extra pair of Kondraki’s glasses is on the counter- Jack nabs them for himself, relieved to discover that Kondraki and his host share the same prescription- Clef forgot a pack of cigarettes in the bathroom, Gears has reorganized the fridge in a very Gears fashion, Iceberg left the freezer cracked open, and one of Glass’ lens cleaners is on Jack’s nightstand.

If this is anything to go off of, then pretty much all of the scientists that Jack contacted in his suicide note have been in his quarters while he was gone.

“That’s…  _ weird,” _ Jack says to himself, feeling uncomfortable with this new information. “Almost like everyone was gathered for a fu-”

Suddenly, it clicks into place, and Jack can practically  _ see  _ what happened while he was gone. He sees his coworkers somberly shuffling into his apartment, finding places for themselves in the too-small space for such a gathering and refusing to speak, too in shock to break the silence. If Jack had to guess, it would’ve been Clef to say something first, not that it would’ve been helpful or even kind. He probably made a joke- a light jab about claiming something of Jack’s- and that would’ve made Glass flinch and Iceberg curse him out. Gears would find an excuse to step into the kitchen with Crow- not really out of the room, but far enough to be away from anymore arguments- and he’d see the state of Jack’s fridge, grimace, and go about cleaning while Crow lies on the floor and waits everything out.

For some reason, the thought of his coworkers- his  _ friends, _ really- fighting makes Jack feel sick to his stomach, especially when he realizes it would’ve been caused by _ him.  _ Who took all of his documents out of his desk? Was it Rights, always so at home in his quarters and aware of where things are kept, or Kondraki, too fatherly not to take initiative for the friend group? Who was the first to realize how finalized all of Jack’s research was before he ran away? Was it Gears, so put together and tidy that he wouldn’t miss a hidden end to his coworker’s work, or was it Crow, distinguished but impossibly,  _ wonderfully  _ intuitive. Who left cigarette butts on the windowsill? Was it Clef, indirect about his feelings and refusing to show them, or Iceberg, a secret chain-smoker when he’s stressed?

These thoughts fill Jack with a terrible illness, a terrible illness that has him sitting with his back to the front door, sliding to the floor, and staring at his living room, his  _ home, _ an impossible amount of unanswered questions swirling endlessly in his brain. What did they say, after they got the news? Did they know it wouldn’t be the end of him, or did the MTF team not tell them he survived until after they got back? Do they even know he’s still here? Has Clef or the O5 told them yet? Good  _ God, _ did they… did they plan on  _ burying  _ him? Did they discuss plans for a funeral, all while a cold, unofficial one took place in their supposedly deceased friend’s home? All at once, Jack wishes he could hug every last one of them and tell them he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to hurt them. If anything, he thought they’d be happy if/when he died. Oh, how wrong he was.

It takes an embarrassingly long time, but eventually Jack gets back to his feet, his legs nearly asleep and shaking with static. He doesn’t cry, all of his tears long since gone, and sluggishly, he goes to his kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge. He needs a drink, preferably something that will go down smooth and cold. As Jack opens the fridge door and snatches a bottle of apple juice- he doesn’t remember when he bought it, but since Gears didn’t toss it out, that must mean it’s safe to drink- Jack hears the flutter of paper or cardboard, of something softly hitting the linoleum floor. He pauses, confused. What was that? He closes the door, looking down for whatever fell, and immediately, he spies something that looks far too much like a card on the floor. What is that? Since when did he put anything but dumb magnets on his fridge?

Jack picks it up a moment later, half scared it might somehow bite him, despite lacking the tools to do so, but as he turns it over in his hand, he gasps, stunned by what he sees.

It’s a cheap card that he’s pretty sure he could find at any gas station in the world, the baby blue, cardboard-like paper seeming so out of place in his dingy apartment. On the front of the card is a cartoonish image of a chocolate chip cookie with a bandage on it’s head, as well as a delightfully childish caption reading “You’re one tough cookie!” in comic sans. Slowly, Jack sets his drink aside and opens the card, and despite only just getting some juice in him, he feels tears fill his eyes as he reads the message inside. It’s another caption, this one being “Get well soon, champ!” in the same font as before, accompanied by signatures from… well, pretty much everyone Jack has a connection to at Site-19. There’s so many damn signatures, the caption is almost illegible from all the strokes of different pens and various colors.

For a few minutes, Jack just stares in bewilderment at the thoughtful little card, his emotions ranging from relieved to terrified. He feels like he’s supposed to be much more happy about this, like this card along with getting a hug from his big brother is supposed to magically make everything in his chaotic life better, but while these things have certainly helped, Jack knows these gestures are just the foundation- no pun intended- for the long road ahead of him. If he really can’t die, if his divinity and SCP-963 will keep him alive forevermore, then he knows he needs to do something to make the next thousand something years bearable. For one thing, he considers whether or not he should get therapy… or, more accurately, he wonders if he  _ can _ get therapy. He hopes so, unsure of where else to start.

“I’m so fucking screwed up.” Jack mutters, taking a long, deep breath to steady himself. He uses ones of his novelty magnets- a merman dressed in a skimpy doctor’s coat- to stick the card back on his fridge, imagining it as a lighthouse in the sea of despair he’s been drowning in for most of his life. He should put more stuff here, like one of TJ and Sarah’s drawings.

Deciding that he’s left his family waiting long enough now, Jack shuffles to his bedroom and strips, throwing off the D-Class jumpsuit as fast as he can, relieved to at last be free of the coarse, itchy fabric.  _ That’s one thing off the list.  _ He considers his wardrobe for a moment, wondering how he should dress today; should he go with a skirt and sandals, or something more masculine? In the end, Jack tosses on a comfortable pair of slacks and a T-shirt, adding a zipper hoodie for good measure. It’s a bit too casual for most people’s tastes, and his father will certainly roll his eyes in exasperation, but more than anything, Jack just wants to feel  _ good  _ right now, and loose, soft clothing seems like the best way to reach his goal.

Just as he’s stepping out of his room, the researcher pauses, hearing his front door open and close in quick succession. It’s not slammed in any way, suggesting whoever came in isn’t angry or aggressive, but you can never be too careful in a place like this. His heartbeat beginning to race, Jack kneels down and lifts at the corner of the embedded carpet in his hallway, revealing a trapdoor. From inside the secret compartment, he pulls out a short stun baton; it’s not the most  _ glamorous  _ weapon for self defense, but it’s the most he can get away while living in the foundation. Jack clicks the tool to life, his hair sticking up as electricity courses through the air, and with all the stealthiness of a man who’s been in a lot of fucking trouble throughout his life, he ebbs toward his living room, half prepared to get jumped by an SCP or other such intruder.

To Jack’s relief, he finds none other than Claire sprawled out on the couch, his kid sister lying with her feet kicked up on one of the armrests, her hands behind her head as she reclines in a comfortable manner. She looks as if she owns the place.

“Hey, Jack,” Claire addresses her brother without even looking up at him, suggesting that he was unsuccessful in sneaking up on her. Then again, she’s always been the most stealthy of them. “Nice place you got here… better than I expected, honestly.”

“I’m treated well here,” Jack says, ignoring the fact that he was strapped to a gurney less than a few hours ago. “How’d you find my personal quarters?”

Claire shrugs. “It wasn’t hard. After my phone call, I ran into Clef, and he pointed me this way; the door sign gave you away.”

“Oh, right.  _ That,”  _ Jack mutters, almost embarrassed by the news. He knows his  _ ‘It’s a whore HOME, not a whore house!’  _ sign is a bit…  _ inappropriate, _ but he likes it. “So, you uh… you have a boyfriend?”

Claire sighs through her teeth, already looking upset. “Yeah Jack, I do. It’s not a big deal.”

Jack nods quickly. “Of course it’s not, it should never be. I guess I just… it’s weird, thinking of you having a romantic partner. I mean, the last time I saw you, you were only, like, seventeen years old.”

Claire sits up, her eyes softening when she finally looks at Jack. “…I’ve gotta be honest with you, Jackie; I’m not sorry that I left. We all knew I would never have fit in here, not after they took TJ from us. But… I  _ am _ sorry that I didn’t stay in touch with you.”

“Can’t say I blame you, though,” Jack admits, plopping down beside Claire on the couch after she makes room for him, and all at once, he feels like a teenager and having a heart to heart with his sister after dark, just like they used to. “You’re right, after what happened to TJ… I wasn’t surprised when you left. In some ways, I was damn near jealous.”

Claire startles at that, giving his brother a surprised look.  _ “Really?  _ I always thought that you  _ worshiped  _ the foundation. After all, they put you through college and gave you everything you ever wanted; a job as a scientist, Mom and Dad’s respect, all that jazz.”

“But they took my siblings from me,” Jack points out, feeling sick as the memories wash over him, as his mind is bombarded with the scent of broken wood and the look of terror on young TJ’s face when he was handcuffed. “They took TJ and Sarah, and then they drove you away from me, too. After Mikell joined his team and started doing fieldwork… I felt like I was an only child. It didn’t help that Mom and Dad got so absorbed in their work, too.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Claire says, laying a gentle hand on the man’s bony shoulder. “I didn’t realize just how isolating that must’ve been… you always were the most clingy of us.”

Jack huffs out a poor excuse for a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I was.” He says, remembering all the times he’d beg Mikell to play with him, or drag the twins into the woods to explore, or even up and snatch Sarah from her crib and cuddle her while he read a book. Those few months that Sarah was resurrected, and the Foundation hadn’t found out about her and TJ yet… he thinks those were the best months of his life. Nothing bad had really happened yet.

A lengthy pause follows, though it’s not particularly uncomfortable, and for a few minutes, Jack imagines this scene so very differently. He imagines working a more normal job in the city- where he’s a researcher in a normal lab with consenting test subjects and normal coworkers- and he has his little sister over for dinner and a movie. Maybe TJ and Mikell are there too, in the other room goofing around, or it’s just a quick visit between Jack and Claire. Either way, the scenario makes him feel less lonely than he did before, even as the doctor is forced to realize that it isn’t real, and it never will be. Right here, right now, is probably the height of Jack’s relationship with Claire, and come the end of the day, he fears he’ll lose her again, but for now, he revels in the sense of companionship she gives him.

“We should really get back to the… to the  _ family reunion, _ or whatever the hell today is shaping up to be,” Claire says, laughing softly at the thought of this mess being such a thing. “Should probably hurry, or else the old man will burst a vein and send the hounds after us.”

“We don’t really, uh,  _ have _ hounds around here… save for Dr. Crow. And also maybe SCP-939, but they don’t like to cooperate with staff very much.” Jack explains, laughing a bit as well.

“Then let’s not leave them waiting,” Claire suggests, hopping to her feet. She stretches her arms over her head, looking for all the world like she’s  _ just _ Jack’s little sister, but he knows she’s so,  _ so _ much more than that, more than he’ll ever know. She’s Claire Bright, and she’s the toughest of all of them, and at the end of the day, Jack still loves her with all his heart. “You coming?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder at him as she heads for the door.

Jack freezes, wanting nothing more than to just stay here in this moment, to not go back to the harsh reality of his life, but he knows he can’t. He needs-  _ wants,  _ maybe even- to take control, and that means pulling himself away from daydreams that threaten to trap him in a place that won’t let him heal. More than ever, he longs to stay in the moment, because if he does, maybe he can make these so-called _“fantasies”_ a reality. Maybe, just maybe, he can have his family back.

“Right behind you.” Jack says at last, a smile slowly coming to his face.

Claire mirrors it, holding out her hand to him, and despite the trepidation in his chest, Jack takes it, holding his sister tightly as he silently begs the world not to take her from him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooo, the sibling feels are only getting more intense! Gosh, I freaking LOVE Claire and Jack’s dynamic in this fic, even if I don’t think it’s super accurate to canon; just let me have this, gosh dang it! The next chapter is more or less done, but I JUST finished it, so I need a few days before I can accurately reread and edit it for posting. Thanks for reading my weird fic, I hope you guys are enjoying it so far!

**Author's Note:**

> I really did want this to only be one fic, but with the WIP being over 16k and me not even being fucking done yet… yeah, I’m not putting y’all through that shit. If you ended up liking this, feel free to share your thoughts with me in the comment section, ‘cus I’d love to hear ‘em! Thanks for reading!


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